


I love you 'cause I love you 'cause I can

by Masterofkarate



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: (bc of drug use and also even tho charlie's the one on drugs he lowkey pressures mac), (very minor and brief), Drug Use, Dubious Consent, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Praise Kink, Recreational Drug Use, tagged rape/non-con but probably falls under dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 10:24:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16514546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masterofkarate/pseuds/Masterofkarate
Summary: Charlie would never be able to understand why, but Mac leaned forward and kissed him. He did not quite understand that he was the one to come onto Mac. He just liked Mac’s touch. He wanted more. He didn’t understand that this was the only way he would get more.When he got it, though, he realized it was all he ever wanted. He’d never felt such a good kiss in his whole life. It was closed-mouthed, spit and tongue free, but it was hard and long. The two just pressed their lips against each other for what could have been forever. Charlie wasn’t quite sure what neurons were, but he thought his were all on fire. His whole body was electricity. He was quite sure his hair was standing up with the shock of what had just happened.-----------aka the story in which charlie steals some pills from Dennis without knowing what they are, takes them, and heads over to Dennis and Mac's apartment and is super horny for Mac. just some porn bc i'm trash.





	I love you 'cause I love you 'cause I can

**Author's Note:**

> takes place right after s3e8 (frank sets sweet dee on fire).

 

Pills. Charlie could never say no to pills. Actually, that’s an understatement. Charlie could never say no to any sort of drug. Charlie loved drugs. Always have.

Charlie wasn’t exactly sure what these drugs were. Little pills. White. Round. Little lightning bolts pressed into the tops. Must have been that dealer’s signature. He thought signatures in pills were tacky, but he wouldn’t complain, especially not when they were free.

Well, stolen. Not free. Well, barely stolen. Stolen from Dennis barely counts as stolen. Stealing from a friend is allowed, because if they find out, they can beat the shit out of you and you can’t complain. 

Plus, Charlie was pretty sure Dennis was done with these weird pills. They made Dennis act weird on TV. Well, that’s what Dennis claimed. Charlie never acted much weirder on drugs than he was without drugs. But maybe that’s just because he’s already weird enough without them. 

Charlie remembered how easy it was to get the drugs. Something taken that easily isn’t stolen.

_ It was absolutely crazy _ , he heard Mac say in his head.

He smiled and opened his eyes in the darkness, shifted to lay on his back, and looked up at the ceiling. Mac wasn’t there, no not at all, but he still heard him.

_ Yeah dude, it was crazy _ , he told the Mac in his head.

_ Absolutely crazy _ , imaginary Mac agreed.

What kind of pills made you hear your friends? He didn’t care, it was nice. Better than being up alone in the dark. How long had it been since he and Frank laid down? Five minutes? Ten? An hour? More?

Time was moving like sewage down a water slide. Charlie was unsure if it was moving slowly or quickly, it was hard to tell, and there’s nothing you can do to change the speed.

He stood up. The nausea in his stomach hit. That’s okay. Worth it.

He took the small baggie of pills out from under his pillow, where they’d been hiding. He opened the baggie and popped two out before closing it again. He got out of bed and opened a bottle of beer, drinking them down with it. He stumbled around the dark room to find his jean shorts. Why was it so hot? He felt like he was sweating as much as Mac behind the camera. 

_ You would suck at being a news talker _ Charlie told the Mac in his head.

_ Shut up, dude! I know how to get a real story, _ fake Mac argued back.

Charlie smiled. Mac was so pompous. So full of himself. Charlie loved that. It meant that even when Mac was wrong, Mac thought he was right. Sometimes, it sucked, but usually it just meant it was easy to follow Mac’s lead. Charlie’d been following Mac’s lead since they were kids. Never lead him wrong.

After changing into jean shorts, he threw on a t-shirt. He smiled as he looked down at himself. He looked good. He felt good. Real good. His beer was gone. He wasn’t sure he remembered drinking it. He hoped he didn’t spill it, that would piss Frank off.

Charlie hummed to himself as he walked out the door. His head was following his feet instead of his head telling his feet where to go. He didn’t mind. It was colder outside, but he still felt hot. The feeling of the cold air on his sweaty skin was nice. Really nice. He felt fresh and awake. Even more awake than before. He didn’t know how that was possible. 

He talked to imaginary Mac the whole walk. They talked and laughed and argued. It was like real Mac, but not quite. 

The walk was over when he realized he was outside of Mac and Dennis’ apartment building. Cool, Charlie thought. His feet were pretty smart.

He walked up the familiar stairs until he got to their door. He banged on it, unaware and uncaring of the time.

No answer. Some time passed. How long? A few seconds? Minutes? Had he been standing here for hours? There were no windows in the hallway, maybe it was daytime already.

He banged on the door again.

No answer.

And again.

And again.

Frantically now.

Oh god. Something was wrong. Very wrong. He’d been at the door for so long now. He could feel his heart pounding too fast in his chest, sweat flowing freely out of his pours, his head ached, his mouth was dry. What was wrong with him? What was going on?  
He was banging when the door swung open so quickly and roughly that he fell right into Mac’s arms.

“Oh thank god!” Charlie shouted as he threw his arms around Mac’s neck, hugging him tightly, holding on for dear life. “I thought I was gonna die out there!”

“What the hell’s going on, Charlie? What’s wrong?” Mac whispered. His voice was rough, not welcoming and warm and playful like imaginary Mac. Mac closed the door behind them and stepped into the living room, keeping an arm on the small of Charlie’s back as Charlie refused to unlatch from his best friend.

“I was… You were talkin’ in my head,” Charlie started to explain, burrowing his head in Mac’s neck. “You were talkin’ then I was walking, and now I’m here, but I knocked on the door for hours and you ignored me.”

“Your first knock was less than a minute ago,” Mac said flatly. “What the hell are you on?”

“Dude, I’m standing on the same floor as you,” Charlie said with upturned lips, the panic completely eliminated from his voice, although his arms stayed around Mac’s neck.

“You’re on something,” Mac said, trying to tug away from Charlie gently. “You’re covered in sweat, dude.”

“It’s cool,” Charlie said, he hugged Mac closer when Mac tried to pull away. “I’m good, man. We’re good. God, you’re so warm.”

“I’m warm? You’re on fire,” Mac huffed.

“Good warm.”

“Charlie,” Mac sighed, he finally tugged away, more roughly than before, leaving Charlie to stumble forwards than backward. “You’re high as a kite. Why the hell are you here?”

“I told you, was talking to imaginary you then I was walking,” Charlie answered with a shrug. 

Mac rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Alright, whatever dude. I’m going back to bed, it’s four in the morning. Come on with me.”

“I’m not tired,” Charlie answered with a shrug, but he followed as Mac walked towards the bedroom.

“Go piss before you come to bed,” Mac said when they got to his bed.

“Dude, I’m not even going to sleep,” Charlie laughed.

“Just do it, okay Charlie? Or else you can’t sleep here,” Mac said firmly. 

That freaked Charlie out. Imaginary Mac was nicer and funnier, but real Mac had warm and soft skin. Charlie remembered just a minute (or hour?) earlier, arms around Mac’s neck, the weight of both of their bodies pressed against each other. Mac’s weight, Mac’s warmth, against his. So nice, so comfy. Charlie liked that. He knew if he stayed here, he could probably hold Mac close. Much better than ass to ass with Frank, plus Frank snored louder.

Charlie was contemplating this standing in front of the toilet. How long had it been? When did he get here? Did he even pee yet? He looked into the toilet. Yep, he peed. His dick was already back in his shorts, already zipped up. When did that happened? He noticed he was hard too, didn’t know when that happened either. 

A knock on the door. 

“Charlie? You in there?” 

It was Mac.

“Yeah dude,” Charlie said as he flushed the toilet. 

He opened the door to Mac with his arm crossed.

“Wash your hands.”

“Whatever,” Charlie mumbled, turning to wash his hands. Mac was watching him. That meant he had to use soap and all. He washed his hands way better than usual, not wanting Mac to get mad at him.

He didn’t mind so much, though. The water was cold. His skin was hot. He was surprised he could not see steam coming off of his hands. It felt so good. He felt cleaner than ever before. When he finally finished, he turned to Mac. Charlie’s eyes looked as if they were looking far into the distance, far past Mac, but his smile was prominent.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Mac said, he couldn’t help but smile a little. He wrapped an arm around Charlie’s waist and led them to the bedroom.

“Take off those stupid jean shorts,” Mac said as he let go of Charlie, sliding into the bed.

Charlie shrugged and did so. His boxers were just as old and tattered, but they sure were comfier. Damn, Mac was so smart all the time. Charlie loved how smart Mac was. Even though sometimes Charlie pretended he didn’t think Mac was smart, Charlie always knew in his heart that Mac was smart. 

Mac was already on the bed and under the blankets, laying on his back. Before even getting in bed, Charlie decided that the blankets would probably be too hot. He flopped down on the bed dramatically, letting the bed and Mac bounce under his weight. He looked up at the ceiling as he lay on his back.

Mac’s bed was so nice. It was soft and warm and formed to his body shape. Nothing like his pull-out couch. He loved it. And Mac was right next to him. He couldn’t feel Mac’s skin, but that was okay. He could feel Mac’s weight, ever so slightly pressing against his where their arms touched through layers of blankets.

“I feel floaty,” Charlie hummed happily.

“Great, float on to sleep then,” Mac mumbled.

“No, not sleepy floaty,” Charlie said. “It’s not like glue or nothing like that, it’s like… Like I’m floating up in the sky like one of those things that are in movies that look like big, colorful balloons, you know?”

“An air balloon?” 

“Yeah dude, those things.”

“Those are real things, not just in movies.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Charlie said with a little chuckle. He did not.

“Sure,” Mac answered. He knew that Charlie didn’t know.

Charlie hummed happily and rolled to his side, swinging his hand over Mac’s waist on top of the blankets. He let his head nuzzle into the spot where Mac’s neck met his collarbone.

“Charlie, go to bed,” Mac whispered, his voice came out through between his teeth. He sounded strained.

“M in bed,” Charlie whispered against Mac’s neck, his lips brushing the skin.

“Go to to sleep then,” Mac answered, he turned to his side, facing away from Charlie.

Charlie let out a whine but took the opportunity to spoon Mac. Mac was taller than him, wider in some aspects, but that was okay. Charlie still liked holding Mac. He used pressure in his arm to pull Mac closer to him, so he could feel Mac’s weight against him.

“It’s late,” Mac argued.

“You feel so good,” Charlie whispered, now his lips were pressed against the back of Mac’s neck, right below his hairline. “So warm, so comfy. Missed you.”

“Charlie,” Mac grumbled with no follow up.

“What?” Charlie asked with a high pitched whine in his voice. He let his hand start to move up and down the front of Mac’s body, still covered by the blankets. Just the warmth of Mac, the softness of Mac, the hardness of Mac, the comfort of Mac. Charlie couldn’t get enough of it.

“Charlie,” Mac whispered. He slowly turned from one side to the other, turning to face Charlie.

Charlie’s eyes were half-closed, half-opened. His pupils were big and dark. He was smiling the same kind of way you smile when you think of something nice when you’re falling asleep. 

Charlie would never be able to understand why, but Mac leaned forward and kissed him. He did not quite understand that he was the one to come onto Mac. He just liked Mac’s touch. He wanted more. He didn’t understand that this was the only way he would get more.

When he got it, though, he realized it was all he ever wanted. He’d never felt such a good kiss in his whole life. It was closed-mouthed, spit and tongue free, but it was hard and long. The two just pressed their lips against each other for what could have been forever. Charlie wasn’t quite sure what neurons were, but he thought his were all on fire. His whole body was electricity. He was quite sure his hair was standing up with the shock of what had just happened.

When they pulled away, Charlie looked at Mac with big eyes and a bigger smile. Mac looked away, though. Charlie leaned forward to kiss Mac. Both of their eyes closed. This kiss was longer and harder and more opened mouthed and there was tongue and spit. Still, Charlie liked it. It was Mac. All Mac. Only Mac.

Somebody pushed the blanket away. Charlie didn’t know who, Charlie didn’t care who. This meant he got more Mac. More Mac was good. More Mac was perfect. All Charlie ever wanted.

And soon Charlie was on his back. Mac had one knee on either side of Charlie. Charlie’s boxer-covered dick was hard and pressed under Mac’s weight as Mac leaned forward and kissed Charlie. The sensation was so good. So much pressure. He felt like his whole body was vibrating. Every time Mac’s body shifted, Charlie felt the pressure on his dick, one little movement was better than anything Charlie had ever done jerking off.

Mac stopped looking away whenever their eyes met at this point. Charlie figured it was too good for either of them to deny it. Mac was a better kisser than Charlie ever would have thought. Charlie even thought of himself as a good kisser right now too.

Mac started kissing down Charlie’s jaw and neck. Bites, kisses, licks. Rough and possessive, but somehow full of love too. Charlie didn’t know how that worked, but he didn’t want to question it. 

He started moving his hips up, chasing every shift in weight that Mac produced. Mac groaned and grabbed one of Charlie’s hands, which were holding on tightly to the blankets (when did he start doing that?) and pressed it to the front of Mac’s pajama pants.

Mac was hard. Like really hard. Charlie wasn’t sure why he was surprised, but he was. Charlie started to apply pressure through his pants, experimentally moving his hand up and down, but it only took a few seconds (or maybe it was minutes or maybe an hour, but right now time was moving fast for sure) for Charlie to get frustrated with the lack of skin-to-skin contact. He hated that. He shoved his hand through the flap of Mac’s pants and then tugged at his boxers.

Charlie’s hand was tangled in fabric, but he didn’t care. He grabbed Mac’s dick. He was too rough, but Mac didn’t complain. Charlie started tugging. Back and forth and back and forth. There wasn’t much ceremony to Charlie’s movements, he was just doing what he did to himself. Mac kept kissing Charlie’s neck and jaw, so it must not have been bad.

Charlie loved the feeling too. Sometimes, Mac would jerk forward, giving Charlie more friction. More than anything, though, Charlie loved the weight in his hand. He could almost feel Mac’s heartbeat through his dick. Heat was emanating off of him. Something about having Mac’s dick in his hand, something about making Mac feel good, it turned him on more than all of the kissing in the world.

“Fuck Charlie,” Mac mumbled, pulling away from Charlie’s skin. It was the first words either of them had said since they started kissing. Mac’s words filled the room even though they were whispered. Charlie’s body was still floating, Mac was floating with him. They were covered in Mac’s voice. Mac pulled away slightly, eliciting a whine from Charlie as Charlie’s hand limply fell out of Mac’s pants. “Charlie, dude, I need more.”

Charlie understood when Mac shifted to one side of Charlie, instead of straddling him, and started to kick off his pants. Charlie rolled to his side to watch Mac. He licked his lips. His mouth was so dry earlier. It still was, but also watering. How does that happen? Is that a thing?

Charlie was thinking about his mouth when Mac flopped down on the bed, laying on his back beside Charlie. With no game, Mac looked down at his hard dick, which he was stroking lazily with one hand, then back at Charlie, then back at his dick. Charlie stayed laying on his side and reached down to replace Mac’s hand.

Mac rolled his eyes, but it was only half-hearted. He wasn’t actually annoyed with Charlie. Charlie knew the difference. Charlie had a lot of years to learn to understand Mac. It was knowledge Charlie was proud of. In a whisper, Mac instructed, “Use your mouth.”

Charlie nodded and sat up. He was either moving very slowly or time was moving slowly again. Charlie’s brain swayed in his head as he shifted positions. He was on his knees, facing away from Mac. He was pretty sure in porn, the person giving the blow job (a girl, usually) was between the guy’s legs, but this was easier and quicker. Charlie didn’t care what happened in porn, he wanted to do this. He wanted to do this his way. He wanted to do it now.

On his knees, facing away from Mac’s face, the outside of his thigh pressing against Mac’s side, Charlie leaned forward. His hand was wrapped around the base of Mac’s dick. He opened his mouth, not quite wide enough, and let his lips touch the head of Mac’s dick.

It was wet. Sticky. Salty. Charlie liked it right away, he decided. He let his jaw relax and leaned forward, letting himself slide onto Mac. Mac let out a low groan, it sounded like it came directly from his chest, like it didn’t even take the time to travel up his throat and out of his mouth. It just came out of Mac naturally.

Charlie liked that. Okay, Mac felt good. Charlie felt good. This was great.

Charlie pushed forward as much as possible. He felt like he was choking, let out an unavoidable gagging sound, so he pulled off, a little too quickly. He repeated the same action, a little slower with more understanding of his limits.

It took only a few bobs (that took maybe only a few long seconds?) for Charlie to find a pattern. It was easy to find a pattern. Mac groaned when something felt good. Charlie’s speed started to increase. He wasn’t thinking, just acting.

And then Mac started to praise him.

“Fuck that’s so good,” Mac whispered in a voice much deeper than usual. And that enthused Charlie more.

“Just like that.” “So good.” “Keep going.” “Good boy.”

Charlie felt his cock twitching without even being touched. Who knew Mac praising him could feel almost as good as being touched?  
Charlie let out a whine around Mac’s dick. He didn’t mean to, didn’t know he could make sounds with a dick down his throat. He was just aching to be touched. An aching that came from deep inside his stomach. He just needed contact. For some reason, Mac really liked it when Charlie whined. He praised Charlie even more.

Charlie felt Mac shifting behind him, propping himself up on one elbow. With the other hand, Mac reached around Charlie and wrapped a hand around Charlie’s cock.

Charlie’s eyes flew open before squeezing shut. The touch was electric again. He felt the pleasure run over his whole body. He tried his best to keep the same pattern of bobbing. He wanted to keep making Mac feel good. He didn’t want the praise to stop, he didn’t want the touch to disappear.

Mac started immediately with a quick movement, as if he knew how desperate Charlie was. 

Charlie kept bobbing his head. Quicker now. He was going deeper now. He still gagged sometimes, but he took less of a gag between the choking feeling and keeping up his rhythm. He used his hand to cover the area his mouth could not. He squeezed and pulled and tugged.

“Shit, Charlie, you’re so good, such a good boy, fuck, man, you’re doing, fuck that’s so” Mac kept starting sentences and not finishing, but Charlie knew it was good. His words were interrupted by groans and low sounds that came like they came from a secret, primal side of Mac, a side that not even Charlie had ever seen.

“I’m gonna come,” Mac managed to groan out in warning. Mac still used one hand to prop himself off and the other hand to touch Charlie, but Charlie did not need any encouragement to keep going.

Charlie liked the taste of Mac’s precome when he first touched his lips to the head of Mac’s dick, he didn’t see any reason to stop when it came to the grand finale. He kept going. He felt Mac coming down his throat.

For a second, Charlie wondered if you could drown this way, but he did not pull off. If this is how he died, in the best ecstasy of his life, he wouldn’t regret it. 

Mac’s movements on Charlie’s dick froze momentarily, although his grip tightened. Mac came down Charlie’s throat with a louder and slightly higher-pitched string of meaningless syllables. 

Charlie swallowed it down. He then pulled off very slowly, using his hand to continue to stroke Mac, much more lazily now, more limply. When he felt Mac twitch in his hand, he finally stilled.

Charlie straightened his spine and looked down at Mac’s dick. He saw there was still some come on the head, dribbling out. Without thinking, Charlie leaned down and licked it off. It was hot and salty. Charlie liked it still.

The sight made Mac groan. When Charlie sat back up, Mac seemed to come back to life. His eyes were opening, no longer in the back of his head (not that Charlie got to enjoy that view). 

When Charlie sat up again, Mac let his hand drop from Charlie’s dick. Charlie whined in protest, thinking it was over now that Mac came.

That was proven untrue just a moment (which felt like maybe an hour, but Charlie knew that couldn’t be true) later, when Mac moved so quickly that Charlie swore he couldn’t even see his movements. Charlie didn’t know how it happened, but Charlie was flat on his back on the bed. Charlie’s thighs were pressed together and Mac was straddling them, hand wrapped around Charlie’s hard on again.

“That was so fucking good,” Mac said as he started to work on Charlie with quick, rough movements. Mac looked down at Charlie, making eye contact, as he continued. “You did so fucking good, Charlie. You made me feel so good.”  
Charlie couldn’t think of what to say. He didn’t know what people said during sex. Even if he did, Charlie did not trust his mouth to form real words right now. He looked up at Mac with an open mouth, letting out whatever moans and groans and grunts came out. He couldn’t care about what he sounded like. This felt too good. He’d never been this turned on in his life.

“Charlie, you’re so fucking good. You’re such a good boy,” Mac continued. He was not dumb, he could tell how much the praise turned Charlie on. If Charlie got him off, he was going to return the favor. “Charlie, be a good boy, show me how good this feels. Come for me.”

Charlie grunted in response and lifted his hips off the bed as much as he could pinned between Mac’s thighs. He started to rut against Mac’s hand. Mac just tightened his grip and kept going, trying his best to keep his movements consistent despite Charlie’s inconsistent shifts and twists.

“Come on, Charlie. Come for me. I know you want it.”

Charlie’s brows furrowed. His mouth opened wide. He felt like he was going to scream. Maybe he did. He couldn’t hear. There was a ringing in his ears. He couldn’t even hear Mac’s praise or the sounds of skin on skin in the room. 

He came so hard that he felt his whole body tighten up. His toes curled, his hands grasped tightly at the blankets, his skin tightened around his body. He could feel his own come shooting up in the air. Some landed on Mac, some landed on himself. Hot and sticky and salty. Charlie didn’t mind.

And then Mac left. Charlie felt his bones leave his body. He couldn’t move. He was dead-weight against the bed. He didn’t dare open his eyes. Mac left. Mac wasn’t coming back. Maybe Mac was never there.

And then the bed dipped beside him. He felt something wet and warm and soft on his stomach. His eyes opened slowly and he saw Mac. Mac was back. He never really left. He had a light blue washcloth in his hands, wet in warm water. Mac was washing the come off of Charlie. Mac had already cleaned himself.

Charlie smiled sleepily at Mac. He was floating still. This time it was air balloon floating combined with sleepy floating. A very good floating. He didn’t think he’d sleep at all that night. He was wrong.

Mac smiled back. His smile was sad. Charlie didn’t know why. Charlie thought about asking, but his mouth was dry again. And it felt like his lungs were deflated. He didn’t even know if he could talk.

After Charlie was cleaned off, Mac threw the washcloth in the corner of the bedroom and tugged his pajama pants back on. Mac laid back down beside Charlie.

Charlie immediately put an arm around Mac and nuzzled his head in the spot between his collarbone and neck. It was so dark and safe and warm and so  _ Mac  _ in this spot. It felt like home.

“Hey Char?” Mac said quietly. His voice was softer and quieter before. Not that deep chested voice.

“Mmmm?” Charlie asked, eyes already closed. He had a sleepy smile on his face.

Charlie felt Mac pull away slightly. Charlie knew Mac was looking down at him. Charlie didn’t know what about that look made Mac decide not to respond. All he knew was that Mac pulled him close again without another word.

Charlie drifted off to sleep much easier than he expected. Those pills should have kept him up. The comfort of Mac brought him to sleep. Mac was the one to stay up that night, questioning the movement of time, lost in his own circling thoughts. 

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the song Junkie Church by AJJ. specifically this verse:  
> "Last time I tried to go to sleep,  
> My head expanded in an air balloon of words,  
> A thousand conversations  
> With your disembodied voice  
> In a cacophony of adjectives and verbs  
> Air balloon."
> 
> (also i haven't done drugs in many years so if my description is not perfect don't kill me. i'm just old and sober my dudes)


End file.
